A Fairly Odd Hunter
by JayTilden
Summary: Timmy Turner decides to Hunt a werewolf in Dimmsdale, but the Winchesters are already on the case.


A Fairly Odd Hunter

Jay Tilden

The fact that Hunters even existed in the first place was for a very fundamental and simple reason: the world needed them. Of course the every day average Joe of present-day Earth could not know that; were the human race to discover they were protected by a renegade selection of leather-clad gun-weilding men and women who fought against the supernatural, it's likely that all hell would have broken loose.

Phenomena have literally dominated human history since the beginning of time. There was a reason Abraham Lincoln was so tall, a reason crop circles appeared in Nebraskan cornfields, and a reason you could see a Chevy Impala at the scene of almost every bizarre crime scene since 2005. The Hunters were there to protect us from the wild and confusing, the monster in the closet and under the bed, the werewolf that fed on children, the vampire that stalked alleyways. They were there to assure our safety, and they never asked for a single thing in return.

The Hunters worked hard, too. Their lives were wholly and completely dominated by the fact that they would one day protect their world from those hiding behind its veil, and they were wholly and completely aware that they would never live normal or happy lives with the white picket fence or the cheery family. They knew they'd die battling a demon or destroying a pack of vampires, and _they were okay with that. _As long as they knew they could save lives, it didn't really matter.

Which made it really fucking annoying when some kid with a couple of supernatural beings was allowed to screw everything up.

Timmy Turner had long been aware that the supernatural existed. Hell, he'd been dealing with it for several years, now. When a kid has a couple of fairies up his sleeve, it isn't hard to acquaint yourself with the realms behind our own. He was aware of the Fairy World, where the fairies themselves hailed from. But he was also aware of demons, whom he called the Anti-Fairies. He was aware of all the scary and menacing things that lurked in the shadows, and over time he had learned that he didn't need to be afraid of thing. Timmy Turner was aware of a lot of things, but he wasn't aware that other people were aware of them.

This fact began to nag at his mind, and it was only a matter of time before he decided he needed to do something about it. On a warm summer day in July, just after Independence Day, he was lounging about in his bedroom with nothing to do. In the fishbowl near his bed, two goldfish with inconspicuous crowns and green and pink eyes were also lazing about, swimming in slow and lethargic circles. One was a male, Cosmo. The other, the female, was Wanda. It's safe to say that their collective IQ was higher than Timmy's, but only because there wasn't much intelligence to go around the three in the first place.

If one were to compare, Wanda was the most intelligent. She had accepted the female stereotype that she was the smartest of the bunch, because if she didn't accept it, the other two would get themselves killed when Timmy wished for a monster truck or some shit.

Timmy was at his wit's end, meanwhile.

He flipped on the television and came to the news, where stubby little news-reporter was gabbing about something unimportant. Bored, the ten-year old was about to flip the channel when Wanda cried, "Wait a second!"

"What?" Timmy snapped. For a kid with the privelege of fairies, he could be a big asshat sometimes.

Wanda appeared before the television, a small woman who floated by translucent wings. Her wand was gripped tightly in one hand, and her swirling pink hair bobbed over her forehead like bubble gum ice cream does, if it were made of something that wasn't wet. "Turn it up," she said. Timmy complied, yawning.

"…late last night, the victim was found in his locked home by one of his neighbors," Chet Ubetcha said proudly. "His heart had been stolen, police are saying, but further comment was avoided. I'm Chet Ubetcha, and this is Dimmsdale News."

"His heart was stolen?" Cosmo asked. He was a dim bulb, and probably couldn't have counted his IQ number on one hand. This was due to the fact that he was still a fish and because he couldn't count. Cosmo appeared beside Wanda, an equally tiny man with wings and a wand. His hair was the colour of grass and his eyes matched, and he wore a shirt and tie. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"You don't think…?" Wanda muttered.

"No, not at all," Cosmo said, grinning. "See?" He opened his head and showed Wanda the contents. This was easy, because there weren't any contents.

"What, what is it?" Timmy asked, jumping off the bed. He was pretty short for a ten year old, and for some reason he always wore a pink hat and shirt. Wanda had speculated that if things didn't change, Timmy might become sexually frustrated later in life.

"Oh, nothing, sweetie…"

Timmy folded his arms. "I wish you'd tell me." Yeah, kids are brats.

Wanda sighed. "The last time Cosmo and I heard about this sort of thing, it had been because of a werewolf."

"A werewolf?" Timmy asked. He had never met one. "How did you guys meet a _werewolf?_"

Cosmo and Wanda exchanged uneasy glances. "Well…you see, kiddo…when you're younger, you get interested in all sorts of things."

Timmy waited.

"…and," Wanda said, "Well, even in Fairy World, things can get pretty dangerous, what with supernatural beings and all. The Fairies were recruiting people, and Cosmo and I…well, we learned how to be Hunters."

"Hunters?"

"Yeah," Wanda said. "They…well, they hunt and kill supernatural beings that harm others. Normally supernatural beings don't act as Hunters, but Fairly World has their own special batch of them."

"Like supernatural police?"

"Yes, sort of," Wanda said.

"Last time we Hunted," Cosmo said, "It was a werewolf. After that, we decided things had gotten too dangerous. We retired and became godparents."

Timmy stared blankly at the television. It took him a long time to process too much information at once. He looked up at Cosmo and Wanda, finally. "And there's a werewolf here now?"

"Yes…"

A grin spread on the little shit's face. Sometimes, not too often, but sometimes, the godparents wished they had never gotten Timmy as a godchild. This was one of those moments, because they knew what was coming next. Timmy had seen an opportunity out of this dull and drab day, and he was taking it.

"Cosmo, Wanda," he said… "I wish I was a Hunter! And knew all the things Hunters know about Hunting werewolves!"

The fairies glanced at each other. Then they bared their teeth, raised their wands, and waited for what happened next.

A Chevy Impala rolled into Dimmsdale that same day. Its engine rumbled like some majestic beast of the wild, and in the front sat two extremely attractive men. The driver, hair cropped and wearing a leather jacket, stared straight ahead. His partner, a moosey guy with long locks of hair and a flannel shirt, was looking over a few police reports. Kansas was on the radio.

"So," said the moose, "It looks like this is the third vic in the area who's lost his heart after murder." His name was Sam. He drank demon blood once. Timmy Turner would have loved to know that the demon Sam drank from had called herself Ruby, but she was some bitch called Anti-Wanda before that. She wasn't very smart.

"Sounds like a classic wolf case," his brother said calmly. His name was Dean. He was the epitome of sexy-douche-awesome, and he had a weird gay sex thing for fairies sometimes.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We'll scope the place out then hang around till tonight."

"You got an address?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know who it is?"

"Because the past victims of the wolf have all been in the same family," Sam said. "The last person in the family lives at the address I have."

"Great." Dean glanced out the window. A fat little man wearing a sash labeled _MAYOR _strolled along the sidewalk with a goat at his feet. He waved at them cheerily. Dean looked back at Sam. "Does this place seem a little…I dunno, cartoony?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. The faster we can get outta here, the better."

That night, the moon hung high as the Impala pulled to a halt outside a dark and silent home in one of the many pristine neighborhoods in Dimmsdale. Dean sat in the driver's seat, going to town on a burger that could have come out of a television show. "Man," he said with a full mouth, "I'll hand it to these folks, they know how to make a burger."

Sam rolled his eyes. With binnoculars, he peered at the house. A light had turned on in the upper left window. "Our guy is home."

Dean nodded. "Give him a minute, then we'll…"

_"Dean."_

"What?" He looked at the house and saw a small figure walking silently up the path, garbed in black clothes and tarting an enormous machete in one hand. "Who the hell is that?"

"A midget?" Sam said weakly. "I dunno?"

"Why would a midget be visitng the werewolf at midnight?"

Neither of them had an answer to that, but decided it wouldn't be best to wait and see. They readied themselves to move in.

At the front door, Timmy Turner, garbed in black clothes and weilding his machete (which was pink and had the eyes of Wanda and a frowning mouth), said, "I wish the door was unlocked!"

On his belt, Cosmo was disguised as a flashlight. He raised his wand and the door opened. Timmy immediately slipped inside as two figures rushed up the path behind him. He came into the living room of a silent and clean home. He saw some couches, a television, a fireplace. The basic set up. The boy glanced around and found a family portrait hanging near the fireplace. Before he could really look at it, though, two men burst into the room.

"Hey!" hissed the taller one. "Who the hell are you?"

Timmy spun and raised Cosmo, flicking on the light. Cosmo giggled. "That tickles!"

Timmy shined the light in the men's faces. "What are you doing here?"

"A kid?" Sam said.

"A really short kid," Dean decided. "What's your name, kid?"

"Timmy Turner," Timmy said boldly. "Who are you?"

"We're the Winchesters. I'm Sam, this is Dean."

Timmy glanced at Wanda, the pink machete, whose eyes were wide and fright-ened. Then he looked at Cosmo, the green flashlight, who appeared equally scared. Realization dawned in Timmy's eyes. "You're Hunters too, aren't you? Human Hunters."

Dean seemed confused. "Uh, yeah," Sam said. "We are."

"Well this is _my _job," Timmy growled. "So beat it."

"Kid, how old are you?" Dean snorted. "Nine?"

"Ten," Timmy said.

"Oh, very sorry," Dean said, raising his hands in mock fear. "Ten. I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries."

At that moment, Cosmo sneezed.

The Winchesters glared at the flashlight. "The hell was that?"

Timmy's mind didn't take long to do the math. Supernatural beings and Hunters of supernatural beings. If these guys realized what his fairies were, they'd try to kill them. "Uh, I sneezed," the boy said lamely.

Sam peered closer at Timmy's weapon. "Is that a pink machete?" Wanda blinked in fear. "A machete with eyes?"

"Oh no," Cosmo whispered. Then he sneezed again, and Timmy dropped him. "Ow!" Cosmo cried, and suddenly he was a little fairy again, with wings and a wand and a crown.

"Fairy!" Dean exclaimed.

"Goddam fairies," Sam growled. Both men immediately drew their pistols.

"No!" Timmy exclaimed. "You can't! They're _my _fairies!"

Before anything else could happen, a teenage girl suddenly shrieked from upstairs, "Hey, who's down there?!" A light switched on, and her shadow appeared.

"Oh no," Dean hissed. "It's the werewolf." The Winchesters and Timmy and his fairies leaped behind the couch and were silent.

The teenage girl descended the stairs, wearing a bathrobe. Her red hair seemed to glow in the light, and her green eyes were cold fire.

"Hey," Dean whispered. "She's kinda hot."

Timmy peered closer, and recognized her. "That's my babysitter! That's Vicky!"

"She's still hot," Dean mumbled.

"I can hear you over there," Vicky said, grinning. "And I'm really hungry!" She tore her bathrobe away as her body began to morph. Her muscles bulged and her limbs elongated as red fur burst from her skin. Her face drew out as long fangs poked out of her gums. She stood in the doorway of the living room, snarling and breathing heavily.

"Alright," Dean said slowly.

"This is what Cosmo and Wanda trained me for," Timmy said, determination in his eyes. Without a second thought, he leaped from behind the couch and brandished his pink machete, a machete with wide, scared eyes. He swung the machete, but Vicky hit it out of his hand. With a long swipe of her other arm, Timmy was sent flying across the room. His head collided with the television, and he was still. Cosmo and Wanda appeared before him with wands in their hands, taking on defensive stances.

The Winchesters, meanwhile, burst up from behind the couch and lunged at Vicky simultaneously. She too lunged at them, and they met in the middle. Vicky's head hit Sam square in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Dean swung his knife once and sliced open her shoulder. She screamed and lashed out, clawing open his shirt and thrusting him into the wall. As Dean rolled over onto his back and looked up at her, he realized he was defenseless.

Then, a pink machete sliced through the air, and Vicky's head rolled off her shoulders. The headless wolf's body fell to the floor, and Dean saw Cosmo floating there, holding a pink machete. The machete became his wife, and the two fairies floated before Dean, covered in scarlet blood.

Cosmo spit on the werewolf, the same one he and Wanda had faced so long ago.

"Rot in hell, bitch," Wanda said.

Then the fairies smiled and looked at Sam and Dean.

The Winchesters exchanged confused glances, then looked back up at the fairies.

"What are you gonna do?" Dean said. "Kill us, too?"

"No," Cosmo said.

"We don't work that way," Wanda said. "We're here for Timmy. We're going to let you go, but if we ever see you again, you'll end up like Vicky."

When Timmy Turner awoke, he was lying in his bed, clean and wearing pajamas. It was just past midnight, and Cosmo and Wanda swam calmly in the fishbowl. He glanced at them and rubbed his eyes in confusion.

"I had this dream," he said groggily.

"Was it bad?" Wanda asked sweetly.

"I don't remember," he muttered.

"Why don't you go back to sleep, sport?" Cosmo asked.

Timmy shrugged. "I don't feel tired." He sat up and got the remote from the bedside table, and turned on the television.

"Well, alright," Wanda said, smiling at the boy. "Let's not watch the news, though, okay?"

"Yeah, the news is boring," Timmy agreed. He found a television show about aliens and a police box, and they all had a laugh at it, because television can be so absurd.

The next morning, the Winchesters awoke in the kitchen of a restaurant. The floors were made of old wood and the walls were of enormous panels of metal. There were counters and a freezer door and outside the room they could hear people talking and eating and laughing.

Then they realized they were soaking wet. Sam was the first to realize they were both underwater, and as they sat beside one another in confusion, they realized they wore scuba suits with air tanks and glass-sphere helmets. Sam looked at Dean, and Dean looked at Sam.

"Where in the _fuck _are we?" Dean exclaimed.

They turned and looked at the stove of the kitchen, where something yellow was cooking away. Sam's eyes widened.

He said: "Is that a fucking sponge?"

The End


End file.
